Sleep does not come easily to me. My left eye socket aches constantly. I've taken more pain pills but they do little to ease the throbbing. I try to open the eye but its sealed shut with swelling. The eyeball has ruptured. I accept that I will probably never see from that eye ever again.
When the morning eventually comes I lay in my sleeping bag still feeling tired and weak. The aching in my eye has subsided a little. The fingers on my right have not improved. I get up and change the dressing on my wounds. How awful it would be for me to die of infection instead of in a fight. I remind myself that death of any sort is simply not an option.
As long as I can keep from infection and the fire still burning in my heart, then I know the crown of the Victor can be mine. But how do I achieve it? Seven seems to be similarly matched to myself, except I'm sure I would beat him in a one on one fight with weapons. Seven won't let that opportunity surface though. My chances of beating Plato in a fight are slim, so my chance of killing him rests in my ability to outwit him. I could poison him or set a trap. I don't know how to set snares so this could be a difficult task. I could always let it rest in the hands of the game makers. Before too long they will do something to bring the games to an end, trying to produce the Victor. Based off previous Hunger Games, it will be something the audience are not going to forget. Whatever it is, it will be horrible. Maybe it's best to take initiative and end the games by my own terms.
Although I want to hunt for the other two tributes, I spend the next two days lying low and resting. My main focus is my wounds. Keeping them clean and well looked after. I'll go searching for Seven when I feel I'm up to it. The swelling around the eye decreases enough for me to open the eyelid slightly. I can see nothing but a haze of light through it. It doesn't look promising. With my left eye out of action I find my self constantly turning my head around to my left so I can see directly ahead of me better. My fingers have improved, but not by much.
I think I might be going a little bit insane. At the start of the games, I never uttered a single word unless I needed to. Now, I find myself chatting to myself constantly.
"The wounds seem to be healing," I say out loud
"Yes. They're clean yet the eye and fingers still don't work properly" I reply
"Luckily I've got another eye"
"Very lucky"
There's a pause.
"It's the fingers that will be the death of us though"
"Now don't say that, the movements not perfect but it's far from gone. You can still hold a sword"
"True…. it hurts like hell still"
"You know where the pain killers are"
"But they don't work!"
"Just be lucky we actually have a medical kit"
Another pause.
"It's been quiet these past few days. I wonder what's going to break the silence?"
"Lets not think about it"
I notice that the light is quickly fading. "It's bloody dark and it's only about three o'clock in the afternoon. Why is that?"
"It's those dark clouds rolling towards us. It looks like a nasty storm is coming"
"You don't think…I mean…"
"What?"
"I mean…you don't think that maybe they're planning something?"
"Who?"
I point upward "Them"
"You mean the Capitol?"
"Shhh. Not so loud!"
"Who cares how loud I am! How much worse can it get? We're completely at their mercy!"
I'm yelling at myself now and I don't care who hears me. "Look at those clouds! Something's about to happen! People are going to die and there is nothing you can do about it Tomas! NOTHING!"
I slump to the ground. "CAPTOL PIGS!" I scream to the sky. As if in response to my insult, a deafening clap of thunder fills the sky. I bolt of lightening streaks out of the sky and straight into the direction of the centre of the arena. I imagine it hitting the Cornucopia. I jump to my feet. Something is definitely happening and I don't know what it is. The sky is getting darker and darker by the second. Soon the light will be gone. Its not until I see the spikey tail whip out of the water that I really begin to panic.